


In the Robins' nest

by October_rust



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Blindfolds, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_rust/pseuds/October_rust
Summary: Dick and Tim convince Jason to spar with them.





	In the Robins' nest

Dick and Tim are definitely up to something.

An impromptu sparring session, Dick said. No weapons, no excessive violence. Oh, and let's do it shirtless, Tim added. For comfort's sake, of course.

Definitely up to something.

The suspicion stays at the back of Jason's mind, even as he dodges Tim's punch and blocks Dick's foot that was about to connect with his side.

He retaliates, but Dick and Tim immediately dance away from his fists, their movements fluid and graceful. The cave is empty, save for the three of them and the bats, slumbering up high in the rock crevices.

“Not bad,” Dick observes with a sunny smile, his breathing only slightly elevated.

“Not bad,” Tim agrees. “But I was still expecting something better from you.”

“Oh, please.” Jason rolls his eyes. “You do realize that I'm going easy on the both of you, right?”

“Eh.” It's Tim's turn to scoff. He steps down from the sparring mats and grabs a bottle of water from the nearby table. After gulping down some, he wipes at his mouth and says, “Take away your guns, and it's like you're not sure how to fight anymore.”

Jason relaxes from his fighting stance and goes to join Tim. He picks up another bottle, tosses the third one to Dick. Soon they are all sitting down on the edge of the mats, drinking slowly. Might as well have a short break. “You're gonna eat those words, Timbo.” 

Tim shrugs, takes another sip. “Promises, promises.”

Dick gives Jason another angelic smile, his fingers toying with the bottle. “Well, Tim's right. Your concentration is off.”

Jason heaves a sigh. “That's total bullshit, and you know it, Dickface.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Really? Ready for round two, then?”

“Bring it on.” Jason bares his teeth.

“Good.” Tim gets up, goes back to the table, and rummages there for a moment. Finally, he finds a small box, opens it and takes something from it. “This should make it more interesting. And help you with your focus, you know.”

He dangles a piece of black fabric from his fingers.

A blindfold.

Jason's eyes widen in surprise.

This will make him vulnerable, open to attacks, open to whatever Dick and Tim have been plotting ...

It's a challenge, though. And he's not going to back down from it. Quickly, Jason lifts up his chin, masks his apprehension with a cocky grin. “Kinky.” He takes his time finishing his water, then gestures at Tim. “Okay, put it on me then. Let's do it the Bat way.”

Soundlessly, Tim moves over to kneel behind Jason. 

His hands are steady, the touch light, as he ties the blindfold over Jason's eyes. Jason accepts it, even though Tim's fingers brushing over his skin send an electric jolt down his spine. 

Once it's done, everything becomes muffled, and the darkness envelops Jason in a soft cocoon. He pushes himself up to his feet and stands still for a while, absorbing the change, trying to orient himself in his surroundings.

Unhurried, he walks back over to where he knows is the center of the sparring mats.

He inhales deeply, lets the breath course through him. “I'm ready.”

The silence stretches, charged and tangible, brimming with anticipation.

And then there's a small ripple in the air, and Jason turns, leans away from the incoming kick. Dick again, he thinks. Dickie sure loves this move. He senses another presence – Tim – coming at him from behind, so he whips around, brings up his arm just in time to shield himself from a quick, vicious jab to the ribs.

All of a sudden, Dick and Tim retreat.

Stillness descends, and Jason listens intently, his head bowed. All of his attention is narrowed down to Dick and Tim, and he searches for them in the darkness, attunes himself to even the faintest traces of their footsteps, their quiet breaths, the heat left by their bodies. 

And yes, they are close, sizing him up, their scrutiny sliding over Jason, razor-sharp and palpable. His skin prickles with it, and he seizes that connection, follows it back to Dick and Tim. Close, so very close.

He waits.

The barely perceptible change in the atmosphere, the spike in the mounting tension, is his only warning before Dick and Tim are on him again. He falls into the rhythm, spins with it, smoothly alternating between kicks, parries, punches, flips, and rolls. And it takes all of his skills and wits to match Dick and Tim.

Once it happens, though, it's exhilarating. There's no other word for it: the three of them are flowing together through the attacks and counter attacks, precise and deadly, honed like the finest blades. Nothing else matters, but this harmony, the trust, the sense of being close, and Jason's heart pounds with it, overcome with a strange joy.

Robins, he thinks, and for the first time in a long while the name doesn't evoke the usual bitterness.

But then Dick drops a kiss to Jason's nape, and it's so unexpected that Jason falters mid spin, gasping, as the heat from that feather light touch sears into his skin. He stumbles forward, a puppet with his strings cut, only to bump into Tim. 

Tim offers Jason no mercy – unerring, his mouth finds Jason's chest and burns there another brand, close to Jason's thumping heart. It undoes Jason's defenses, flays him open, and he can't help another shocked noise at how soft Tim's lips are. The ghost of Dick's kiss lingers, an insistent, hungry throbbing at the back of Jason's neck.

It's so distracting that Jason doesn't have the time to react when Tim hooks his foot around Jason's ankle, pulls, and neatly unbalances Jason. 

He lands on his back, head spinning. Such a rookie mistake, and he'd laugh at himself and congratulate Tim, if they were still pretending it's yet another exercise, nothing more than a bit of friendly rough housing. But he's too breathless, too raw to try to dismiss it with a joke.

Tim and Dick follow him down on the mats, their bodies pressing close to his. Long, nimble fingers reach behind his head, gently tug at the knot, and the blindfold falls away. Jason blinks, his gaze sharpening, the shadows at the edges of his vision receding. 

He looks up; Dick is bent over him, and those brilliant blue eyes, usually sparkling with laughter, are now anxious and worried as they study Jason.

“Dickie, why are you looking at me like that?” Jason whispers, confused.

“Because we shouldn't have done that.” Dick bites his lip. “I mean, we shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. Should have asked you out, made it romantic and all. You can punch me, you know. It was my idea, Jay.”

“Well, the blindfold was actually mine.” Tim clears his throat, and Jason's gaze swings to him. “So yeah, you can punch me too.”

Dick and Tim are wearing identical guilty expressions, and the sight is too much for Jason. Are they really trying to apologize for their little stunt? 

He snorts in disbelief. Oh, for fuck's sake …

And because actions speak louder than words, he simply grabs at Dick's nape, his fingers tangling in the silky black hair, and yanks Dick down for a hard, punishing kiss. A startled gasp is a reward of its own, and Jason smiles against Dick's mouth. So you thought you and Timbo were so clever, huh, Dickie?

He pushes Dick away, then reaches out for Tim. Like with Dick, he fists a hand in Tim's overlong hair, gives a sharp tug, and claims Tim's lips – so soft and warm, despite how serious and unsmiling they often seem – with his own.

“Is that an answer enough for you both?” Jason asks when he's done, and he's very pleased that his voice is just slightly hoarse. 

“Yeah,” Tim says, wide-eyed. Dick just nods, his chest heaving, too stunned to form a more coherent reply. They look so pretty winded like that, hair all mussed up, the color high in their cheeks, sweat glistening on their skin and accentuating the defined lines of sleek muscles.

So pretty, with their feathers ruffled. Jason smiles, feeling a rush of joy and a tentative hope, just like during their sparring match. 

“Your seduction skills suck, though,” he tells them, feigning a bored tone.

Dick slings an arm around Tim's shoulders. “Is that so?” His eyes glint with mischief, as he tilts Tim's face up for a short kiss. And then it's Jason's turn to gape at them, when Tim bites at Dick's lips, surging up for more.

Tim lets go of Dick. “In that case, I guess we should show you more of our seduction skills,” he says, glancing at Jason from underneath his unfairly long eyelashes. “To convince you.”

“We really can do better, you know,” Dick adds, even as he bends down to kiss Tim one more time.

Jason swallows. “Oh?” And now there's definitely a tremor in his voice. “Okay. Convince me then.”

Despite his words, he pushes himself up, straight into Dick's and Tim's waiting arms. 

Warm and strong, they embrace him, and it's like coming home at last.


End file.
